


You gave me my life back

by thewolvescalledmehome



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputee, F/M, Ficlet, Physical Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: For the prompt on tumblr flying by ladyMD





	You gave me my life back

Sansa was used to seeing that broken look in a man’s eyes. Working in an amputation recovery ward in a veteran’s hospital meant she quickly got used to being around broken men, quickly got used to seeing that look of despair and hopelessness.

She knew she could never fix these men, not really, not to their former glory, but she could at least take that hopelessness away. She could help them adjust to their new lives, their new limbs, show them all was not lost. Even if they weren’t physically whole, they could be mentally.

Except for the man in room 15L. Sansa didn’t know if she’d be able to help him the way she’d helped others.

“Morning, Mr. Lannister,” she greeted him, hoping the cheeriness of her voice would at least cause his lips to twitch. He rolled his head on the pillow to look at her, his eyes as listless as they had been since he’d been brought in two months ago. “How are you feeling today?”

“Well, it’s not as hellish as it could be. You said _you_ and not _we_ , so there’s that,” he answered sarcastically. Sansa wondered if he had a different tone of voice than sardonic.

“Thank the Seven for small victories, right?” she joked, coming around the bed adjust his pillows. He scowled at her.

“Yes, and be thankful it wasn’t worse, too, right? _At least it was only your hand. You could’ve been paralyzed. You could’ve been killed_.” He pitched his voice higher, doubtlessly trying to imitate his sister’s voice. Sansa thought she heard just a bit of pain in his voice, which was more than she normally heard.

“Losing your hand is hard, too. It’s not as though you came out of that crash unscathed,” she responded before she thought through was she was saying. He definitely didn’t need to be reminded that he’d lost his hand.

“So, what fun plans have you got this weekend? Any hot dates?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject and disregarding her stupid comment.

“You know I can’t answer that. We can’t discuss our personal lives with patients.”

“We’ve seen each other nearly every day for two months. Are you telling me I’m only your patient?”

Sansa ignored him, setting his breakfast tray over his lap.

“The night nurses are apparently don’t care as much for the rules. They tell me all about their exciting lives.”

“Well, maybe my life just isn’t very exciting,” she muttered, positioning the silverware on the left side of the tray.

“Ah, come on, Stark. How am I supposed to live if not vicariously through the beautiful women who come in and out of my room every day?”

“Well, you could do out patient rehab and live your own life.” Sansa knew the comment was pushing the line slightly, but they’d all been instructed to push him. He was hogging a valuable room according to her boss, even though he was probably paying double to be there.

“And what sort of life would that be?” he asked bitterly, holding up his stump.

“Plenty of other men have come throu—”

“Plenty of other men aren’t Master Sergeants, or the sons of a Senior Master Sergeant. I’ve been a pilot my whole life. Living without flying isn’t a life—not for me.” Sansa perched on the edge of the bed, floored by the raw pain and anger clearly displayed on his face. It was the first time she’d seen something other than bitterness or sarcasm from him.

“There have been incredible advancements in the field of prosthetics—”

“Not enough for me to fly. Not in the Air Force. And certainly not commercially.”

“I’m…I’m so—”

“I don’t want your pity.”

“What do you want?” she asked softly. His eyes were full of pain when they met hers.

“My life back.”

* * *

Sansa scratched out another name and number on her pad before dialing the next one.

“Hi, this is Sansa Stark. I work that the King’s Landing veteran’s rehab center. I was wondering if you had any flight simulators one of our patients could use for a little bit—as part of his healing process.” She paused, listening to the voice on the other end. Her stomach sank when they asked the question she learned to dread.

“What wing of the rehab unit are they in?”

“The amputee recovery wing.” There was a long pause and Sansa nearly hung up.

“I think we can arrange something. It wouldn’t be for very long though.”

“That’s fine. I think any time at all would do him a world of good.”

“All right, let me get something worked out and call you back in a few days, okay?”

“Yes, all right. Thank you,” Sansa said before hanging up.

Sansa couldn’t fight the smile that was creeping up on her face as she entered room 15L.

“Well, doesn’t someone look cheery. You must’ve had a good date last night.”

“You know I don’t date.”

“So what’s got you all bright and happy then?”

“I heard you’re making improvements in PT. They said you can hold a stress ball now.”

“Oh yes, such big strides. Everyone’s so impressed that I have the motor skills of a one year old.”

“It is impressive.” He arched an eyebrow at her, though she could barely see it through his long, stringy hair. “Don’t you think it’s time for a haircut? And a shave? Your family wouldn’t recognize you now.”

“That would matter more if they ever came to visit.”

“What if you had a reason to look presentable?” He scoffed and Sansa bit her lip to keep her plan from blurting out.

“Have it your way. But keep up the good work in PT, okay?”

“What, so I can advance to the skills of a toddler?”

“Just promise that you’re trying in PT, okay?” He stared at her and Sansa thought she should be squirming under his gaze, but she wasn’t.

“I promise.”

* * *

“All right, rise and shine,” Sansa called, flinging back the curtains in Jaime’s room, forcing a groan from the man.

“Sansa, what in the Seven hells are you doing?”

“I’m taking you out. C’mon.”

“Out where? Another stroll through the gardens?”

“You’ll see. Just c’mon.”

It took a half hour of prodding and arguing to get him showered, dressed, and in the center’s car with his prosthetic hand fitted onto his wrist.

“Why won’t you tell me where we’re going? Are you taking me out back to put me out of my misery? Am I Old Yeller?”

“No. Just be patient. You’ll see.”

Sansa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She saw the tightness in his body, the way he clenched his good hand, the way his feet flexed on the floorboards. He was used to being in control, and he hated that he currently wasn’t.

“Where are we?” he asked, voice strained, when they pulled into the parking lot.

“Flight school.”

“You know perfectly well I can’t fly anything. Not with this thing.” He waved his prosthetic hand, obviously wishing it wasn’t attached to him.

“Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we? C’mon.”

Sansa lead him unwillingly through the building to the back, where she had been told to meet the flight instructor.

“Ah, you must be Sansa. And Jaime Lannister. It’s a shame what happened. C’mon, we’ll get you all set up.” Sansa turned to see how Jaime responded to the instructor’s comment, but his face was a blank mask. “If you’ll follow me.”

He lead them into a room that was set up like the cockpit of a plane, screen panels all around, two captain’s chairs, and too many buttons, dials, and switches for Sansa to comprehend.

“You sit there. Sansa, you can sit there.” He indicated to the second captain’s chair on the right and Sansa backed away.

“Where will you sit?”

“I’ll stand back here. It’ll be fine.” She felt Jaime’s eyes on her and she could only guess what was going through his head at her hesitating to sit beside him in a flight simulator.

Sansa sat quickly buckling herself in the five-point harness. She paused after clipping in the last part, realizing Jaime would have a hell of a time fastening it with his prosthetic. She started to unbuckle herself but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. The flight instructor tilted his head towards Jaime and Sansa’s eyes followed.

Jaime had managed to wedge the centerpiece in the fingers of his prosthetic and was using his good hand to strap himself in. He looked frustrated, but it was the most Sansa had seen him do without giving up and getting pissed off.

“All right, so do what you can. It’s set up the way most commercial planes are. It’s a simulator so nothing bad can happen, okay? I’m back here if you need me.” Jaime nodded, and Sansa watched him reach out with his prosthetic first before bringing it back to rest in his lap and flipping switches with his left.

It didn’t take long for Jaime to have the plane in the clouds. It was as though he’d never left, never lost his hand.

* * *

“Pleasure flying with you, Master Sergeant,” the flight instructor saluted after they’d stepped out of the room. Jaime nodded, a ghost of a smile gracing his face.

It wasn’t until they were in the car that Sansa actually looked at the man beside her, but she almost didn’t recognize him. Gone was that broken man she’d seen in the rehab center. His eyes were bright and there was a real smile on his face.

“Thank you, Sansa. For giving me my life back.” Sansa smiled back at him, realizing just how handsome he was.


End file.
